


Inksolation 8

by notjustmom



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Fluff, John is a cabbie, M/M, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27323347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Continuation of 'Noisy' (Chapter 23 of Inksolation 6), follows Inktober 2020
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 241
Kudos: 64





	1. Endless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peanitbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanitbear/gifts).



The rain seemed endless that spring. Once it would have driven him quite mad, and yet he barely gave it a thought these days, as his thoughts and every other bit of him were usually quite pleasantly otherwise occupied one way or another.

“John.”

“Hmmm?” He looked up from the crossword puzzle in his hand and wondered when he would get used to the way Sherlock would look at him, as if memorising him as he was at that moment in time.

“The rain has stopped.”

“Has it?”

Sherlock nodded, replaced the violin into its case and crossed the room, then settled on the couch, his head in John’s lap, legs outstretched, fingers pressed together, eyes closed. The puzzle was set aside, and Sherlock smiled, then opened his eyes. They had now known each other for all of three months and two days, and there were moments like this one, when John couldn’t understand how he had managed to breathe before the day they had met. 

“What is it?”

John shook his head, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the worried crinkle between Sherlock’s eyes. “It’s nothing, just - you are happy, aren’t you, still?”

Sherlock nodded then closed his eyes again. “Yes, John. Quite ridiculously happy.”


	2. Handy

“Mrs Hudson?” John opened the door of the flat and invited her in. Usually she had no qualms about entering their rooms without regard for their privacy, but this morning, she seemed nervous about something, and he helped her to a chair.

“Sherlock isn’t here, he was ‘invited’ to the Diogenes Club first thing this morning, ‘a matter of ‘National Security,’ apparently -”

“No, I know. I came to see you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I overheard Charley on the phone yesterday - I left again before he noticed I was there. He was talking to James Sholto -”

“Sholto?”

Mrs Hudson nodded and finally met John’s eyes. “I know - well, I know that there were rumors, - before you were hurt, that you and he -”

John sighed. “He was my commanding officer. Yes, we were friends before - at uni. And, yes, if things had been different -” He shrugged and shook his head. “Tea?”

Mrs Hudson nodded. John walked into the kitchen, put on the kettle, then returned and sat in his chair. “Things might have been different if not for 9/11. He was brilliant, a historian, was going to spend his life in the ivory tower teaching - but that day changed him, his parents were in New York that day, an anniversary present, twenty-fifth. They never came home, he had to identify them by their belongings that were found in their hotel room. He left Cambridge - I didn’t see him again until I got to Afghanistan. He had a bad war. He was a good officer, but - war changes people, and he was already broken when he went. Mrs H - you know I’m with Sherlock. I love him and I would never do anything to hurt him.”

She nodded. “I know, it’s just, I’ve learned not to trust when things are too easy. Sherlock is happy, if - I just worry. You see, he isn’t different, he hasn’t changed since he met you, not really. To the rest of the world, he’s abrasive and arrogant, and handy on crime scenes, but here with you, he’s safe to -” She stopped speaking as the kettle sang, and abruptly got to her feet. “I apologise, John, it’s none of my concern -”

“Mrs H.”

“I have dusting to do, and my stories will be on soon.”

“Mrs H -” They both turned at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and John blinked as Sherlock entered the flat with James Sholto behind him. “James.”

“Watson. Long time no see.”


	3. Embarrassing

John had been a surgeon and a soldier, and yet he felt his face flush as he saw his former commander for the first time in -

“Six years.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat, then let his eyes flicker over Sherlock’s face for a brief moment. Nothing. He could read nothing from the angular features he knew - had known so well for the last six months.

“Our next client, John.”

“Client. Right.” Embarrassing. He could hear Mrs Hudson making tea as if it was like any other day, and it was. He was just another client. Just one more client.


	4. Jubilant

John watched as Sherlock settled into his seat, and Sholto carefully maneuvered himself onto the straight-backed chair that they used for clients, then he turned towards the kitchen to find Mrs Hudson studying him. Already she knew him too well. She knew he wanted to bolt, but she didn’t say a word, but simply finished making the tea, and with a nod, silently left the flat, closing the door behind her.

“Tea?”

Sholto shook his head, and he knew Sherlock wouldn’t take a cup, he was already in ‘case mode.’ There was an oddly jubilant crackle in the air as he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together. “James, why don’t you repeat the story you’ve already shared with me for John. I think he will find it intriguing, to say the least.”

“From the beginning?”

“Please, it will help me to hear it again.”

Sholto nodded. “Watson - apologies, John, I sometimes forget I’m not -”

“It’s fine, James,” John said quietly as he carried his tea over to his chair and sat down. “I have days like that too.”

“Right. You know I have - had a brother.”

“Had?”

“He died last month, we had been living in our father’s home - he left it to Tad, thought I wouldn’t need or want that monstrosity, and he was correct of course, but when I was invalided out, Tad invited me to live with him - we had our own rooms, and we rarely saw each other except at breakfast -”

Sherlock cleared his throat and Sholto shrugged, but then refocused. “Right. Apologies. It’s still difficult to believe -”

“It isn’t a question of belief,” Sherlock murmured.

“No, he is dead, that is a fact, Mr Holmes, what I find hard to believe is how it happened, but the facts as they stand are that either he killed himself, or I killed him and cannot remember doing it.”


	5. Inevitable

John nearly spit out his tea, but somehow managed to swallow without choking on it. “Pardon?”

James turned and looked at him, and John tried to look past the damage the war had left and see the man he had known, the friend he had once shared everything with.

“I black out sometimes, and I find myself in places -” he shrugged, then sighed as he stood up from his chair and walked over to the window. He cleared his throat and straightened up, then continued. “Three days ago, I woke up in my brother’s room, and had a dreadful headache, concussion, and I searched the house for him, but couldn’t find him. Eventually I just went to bed and a day later--”

John got to his feet and walked over to him. “James.”

“You will think me insane, Doc. But, I found him in his library - and he -”

“Just take a breath, hmm? I’m listening.”

James blinked at him then looked around the room. “Are you sure we’re alone? No one else is listening?”

Sherlock nodded. “I am certain. I made sure this interview is private. No one else will know what you say here. I promised you would be safe. Please continue.”

James let out a groan, then held his hand to his face, but went on. “Doc. Tad - he had been working on something in his library, you remember - when he was researching - nothing could distract him, but he had been different the last few months, as if he was worried about something, or someone, I don’t know -” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old envelope, then shook out its contents into his hand.

John frowned at the five orange pips, and turned to look at Sherlock. “What does it mean?”

“It was a warning - no, more than that, it was a death threat, Doc. I found this on the desk next to him, his body - or what was left of it.”

“Bloody hell.”

James laughed, but it was wild and without humour as he ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled, “that’s about the sum of it.” John started, and quickly came to the inevitable conclusion that his friend and former commander was quite certainly mad.


	6. Careless

“I’m not crazy, Doc,” James mumbled. “I know - how it sounds, but you don’t know -” He stopped and looked out the window again, then muttered, “But you do. You do know, but you are made of stronger stuff, you made it back in one piece, more or less.”

“Yeah, more or less. How can we help?”

James shrugged. “Not sure you can, I was just hoping Mr - Sherlock could take a look and see, just see if there was anyway to prove that I wasn’t responsible for Tad’s death. I had heard through the grapevine about him, and then I heard that you were his -?”

“Partner,” John said as he looked in Sherlock’s direction. “In all ways.”

“That’s good, Doc. I’m glad you were able to find someone, you deserve to be happy.” They stood in silence at the window for a moment until Sherlock broke the silence.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Go where?” James asked, startled.

“To the house of course, it will help immensely if you could show us the scene, though I’m sure by now anything of interest will have been altered, or at least disregarded -”

“Yes, yes of course,” James said with a careless shrug, as if it were already too little, too late. He turned on his heel and walked out of the flat without a backward glance.

“Sherlock -”

“It’s fine, John. It’s all fine.” He got to his feet and turned to face him. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, I didn’t know about him until I got to the Diogenes Club and Mycroft asked us if we would take a look, muttering something about ‘British lives being at stake - something about a knighthood, yadda yadda yadda’... I should warn you though, I think your friend is in danger.”

“The pips?”

Sherlock nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he has received his own warning already, but as he isn’t of a superstitious nature -”

“No, he isn’t, but he’s scared, Sherlock. Last time I saw him look like that -” John shook his head and was about to say something more when Mrs Hudson entered the flat. “Mrs H?”

“Boys, there’s been an accident.”


	7. Shiny

“Sherlock?”

“Hey.”

John looked down at the styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands, and wasn’t sure how it got there. “How -”  
“You rode in the ambulance with him -”

“Him.”

Sherlock touched his face gingerly and waited for a moment.

“James.”

Sherlock nodded.

“Outside Baker Street.”

“Yes.”

John let out a shuddering sigh and let Sherlock ease the cup of coffee from his hands. “I was back - Afghanistan.”

“I know.”

John blinked at the shiny, well-scrubbed floor, then rubbed his eyes. “How long did the surgery take?”

“Six hours. He made it but they aren’t sure of a prognosis yet. About the case, I don’t need to work it - Lestrade can deal with it.”

“No.” John shook his head. ”He came to us for help and we let him just walk out, even though he was in danger, if not from someone else - he wasn’t -”

“John. There’s evidence it wasn’t an accident. From the CCTV -”

“Already -?”

“There are some days when knowing Mycroft has distinct advantages, today is one of them.”

John tried to smile, but failed and Sherlock held his face in his hands and kissed him lightly, then sat back and studied him for a moment. “Let’s go to the house - might be dangerous, up for it?”

“Oh God, yes.”


	8. Antique

John pulled up to the door of the home of his friend, and realised how little he had known about him.

“You didn’t know, then,” Sherlock murmured at his ear, bringing him back to the present moment.

“No - I met him and his brother, his twin brother, Thaddeus, at Uni - he went by Tad, they were -” He paused and turned to look at Sherlock. “There’s no way James did anything to Tad, he never would have hurt him.”

“Perhaps not, but let’s not leap to conclusions quite yet.” 

John nodded, and got out of the cab, then walked over to the door, and nearly jumped as the door was opened even before he reached for the antique bell pull. The man who stood before him may have been fifty or seventy, it was impossible to tell. “Dr Watson, I presume? Please come in.”


	9. Delicate

"And you must be Mr Sherlock Holmes, I never miss the blog."

John blinked at the manservant and allowed Sherlock to lead him into the house, as he felt quite unable to move on his own volition.

"We are here -"

"You wish to see where Mr Thaddeus passed. Very sad, very sad indeed. I am Morstan, please follow me, gentlemen."

Sherlock listened as Morstan gave them the history of the house and of his family's connection to the Sholtos, while John looked around, trying to place the friend he had known in this dwelling that seemed to belong to a different century.

"Please let me know if you require my assistance further." 

"Thank you, Morstan," John managed to say at last, and the servant gave him a nod and slipped silently from the room.

"John, I can do this on my own," Sherlock began.

"No, it's fine. I want to - I don't know, I want to do something to help." He glanced around the room, dark and gloomy compared to their rooms in Baker Street, which seemed warm and inviting, and at the moment, he wished to be there, or anywhere but where they were at the moment.

He sighed in relief as Sherlock switched on the lamp on the desk, and delicate as the light was, it helped to strengthen his resolve to stay at Sherlock's side.


	10. Warm

As Sherlock walked around the spacious room, filled with the latest scientific equipment, as well as the ancient tomes that had a home on his own shelves at Baker Street, John knew he and Tad would have been kindred spirits had they met in life. He watched as Sherlock settled onto a stool and switched on the microscope in front of him.

"Tell me about Tad and James."

"Tad was - well, he was a lot like you."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him but waited for him to go on.

"Not many people understood him, he was always lost in his own thoughts, James was the only one he would listen to. He did his best to help him keep his balance - Tad had always expected something like 9/11 to happen, so it didn't affect him as it did James, he wasn't close to his parents, and when James joined up, they had stopped speaking -"

"So they weren't close."

"Honestly I don't know, I had forgotten about Tad, to tell you the truth, James never spoke about him when we were in Afghanistan, and he received no letters. They must have come to some agreement when he came back to live here." John looked around the room again and shook his head. "James never wanted for anything when he was at Uni, but I had no idea about this place, he and Tad never went home for the holidays -"

"And you?"

"Me?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed warm against the darkness of the room, and John shook his head again. "I left home at seventeen, haven't been back. I would stay with them, in their rooms, I should have known they came from money, but they never asked about my family, so I returned the favor. Never had a reason to ask, wasn't my business." He walked over to a chair and dropped into it, then stretched out his leg.

Sherlock was silent for a few minutes before he cleared his throat and asked, "Do you think him capable?"

"Hmm?"

"Is James Sholto capable of killing his brother?"

"No."

"No?"

"Definitely not."

"People change. You have already said -"

"Yes, I know what I said, he had changed, but his brother was his only family, and they were twins, they had been inseparable -"

"John."

"I cannot believe he did it, Sherlock. I will not believe it of him."

Sherlock nodded and switched off the microscope, then got to his feet. "Come, we should look at James' rooms." He walked over to John and offered him his hand and helping him to stand said softly, "Give me the word and I will walk away from this case, John."

"No. I need to help him, Sherlock, I need you to help me prove my friend didn't do this. Please."


	11. Awkward

“What did you see in there?” John asked after Morstan left them at the door to James’ suite of rooms.

“Enough,” Sherlock murmured then opened the door and walked into a room that was as devoid of character as his brother’s had been all too telling.

“Nothing. He’s left nothing behind,” John said quietly as he scanned the nearly empty room.

Sherlock walked over to the ancient fireplace, picked up a poker and explored the half burnt remains. “He was worried.”

“The pips? But he was a reasonable man, Sherlock.”

“The man who went to my brother for help was not in his right mind, John, the man who sat in Baker Street was not the man you knew, he was terrified, and yet he still left the safety of our rooms - not the actions of a ‘reasonable man’.”

An awkward silence settled between them before John walked over and picked up a single weathered snap from the mantelpiece. It was of better days, at Uni, of the three of them, their first year, when everything seemed possible. “He wants you to remember him as he was, John.”

“Yeah. Tell me what you are thinking?”

“I’m thinking this has nothing to do with Tad or James.”

“You seriously think this has something to do with the pips?”

“It was a warning. There must have been some reason James didn’t want to tell you he came this kind of wealth, the books in Tad’s rooms - yes, he was a scientist, a chemist and a lover of poetry, but he also had shelves of books dating back to the American Civil War, histories of families, including his own that made a fortune from slavery. Tad lived with the past, reminded himself of it on a daily basis, while James tried to escape it. In the end -”

“In the end?”

“When I first met James at the Diogenes Club, I left him to talk with my brother and I read up on the history of the five pips. I don’t know who specifically killed Tad, or hit James today. You know I believe there is always a rational explanation for everything - and there is a human being responsible for these acts. Perhaps more than one. I believe they have completed their mission, whomever they are, and -”

“He wouldn’t want me to know,” John replied quietly. “He destroyed whatever it was that he and his brother couldn’t escape from, and left me the one thing he had kept that reminded him he had once been happy. I don’t think he would want us to investigate further. I think he was hoping - I don’t know - I think he wanted to see me one more time - he knew I was settled, and happy. Two things he was never able to achieve for long.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket, placed the photo inside and replaced it in his pocket. “Let’s go home.”


	12. Gregarious

As Mrs Hudson opened the door to them, she could tell they were in no mood for her gregarious landlady bit. “I’ll bring up a nice tea in a bit.”

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock answered quietly, then followed John up the stairs.

“I’m fine,” John said as he walked into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle.

In way of answer, Sherlock unplugged the kettle, and carefully took him into his arms.


	13. Pompous

“Phone.” John mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know, doesn’t matter.”

“It’s probably your pompous brother, wanting an update.”

“So what.”

“You know -”

“John. It doesn’t matter.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it off without letting go of John for a moment. “Look at me.” John looked at up him and breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s done. Are you hungry? You must be hungry.”

“I know I should be, but I’d rather just go to bed if you’ll come with me.”

Sherlock nodded and gently guided John to their bedroom and closed the door. After a few minutes, he left the bedroom only to check that they had locked the door to their flat, they had, and to pick up his phone, turn it back on, leave a succinct message for his brother (”Fuck off, Myc”) and turn it off again before he headed back to bed.


	14. Plain

John blinked at the long cold plain toast and tea on the bedside table, then looked over at Sherlock as he slept. He could tell from the darkness under his eyes that he had been sleeping little the last couple of days. He knew he should get up and shower and try to do something, he had cases to write up, and he should go to the shops.

“Went to the shops this morning,” came an exhausted voice. “Stay, here? Tomorrow, tomorrow will be better.”

John kissed his forehead, then asked quietly, “How do you know?”

“It just will. Tomorrow has to be better, doesn’t it?”

John laughed in spite of himself, but settled around Sherlock and went back to sleep.


	15. Fake

“What is that?” John asked as he looked up from his laptop.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he pulled off his fake beard and moustache and threw them on the desk. “Need to keep up a presence, since we haven’t had a case in a while, and with you being a bit under the weather, I thought it a good time to take a walk, see if I can still blend in.”

“And?” John asked with a grin as he got to his feet and stretched.

“I was out for an hour, people recognised me as Billy a couple of times, and then I missed you.”

“Missed me.”

“I’ve become accustomed to you being by my side. Not good for undercover work. Being attached.”

“Are you attached?”

Sherlock blinked at him. “You know I am, from the first moment I sat across from you downstairs at Speedy’s. Maybe even before that. I know it’s only been three months and a few days, but -”

“I know, me too,” John said quietly. “Some days it still catches me by surprise. I am, I was used to being alone, and now -”

“Now?”

“Now I find it difficult to breathe when you aren’t here.” Sherlock moved to stand in front of him, then sighed as John reached up and held his face in his hands. “Now, I know what it means to be needed and loved, and that is everything.”

“Everything.”


	16. Dusty

John stood in front of the bookcases and studied the contents closely for the first time. Some he knew had to come with the flat itself, surely Sherlock had no use for the dusty volumes of Dickens and Austen -

Sherlock mumbled from his chair, “I spent most of my formative years studying English Lit if you can believe it, and most of my hours were spent in the best used bookstores in London, all of these books and bobs and odds and ends are mine.”

“Including every single Ian Fleming novel?” John asked as he pulled out his favourite.

“I admit, I went through an odd phase or two, and yes, ‘Casino Royale’ is my favourite, too.”


	17. Industrious

Sherlock looked up from his industrious scrubbing of the fridge, and John stopped his slow two fingered typing at footsteps entering the flat.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

John shook his head and nodded wordlessly in Sherlock’s direction as he watched one tall and lanky red-headed woman drop into their couch. He blinked as another woman, identical to the first strode over to Sherlock, who was slowly removing his rubber gloves as he got to his feet. 

“Did Donovan send you?”

“Who?” The redhead on the couch asked before she stood and hung up her coat as if planning to stay for a while.

“No. It had to be Anderson - what day is it John? Is it April Fools’ Day?”

“Nope.”

“But, John, it’s never twins.”

“And yet, here we are.”

“I see that,” Sherlock squinted at the one whose hand was still hanging in the air. “And why exactly are you here?”

“We have -”

“a case for you,” the other finished.


	18. Dry

Charley set down John’s plate in front of him, then pulled over another chair and sat down. “So. How long did it take him?”

John sighed and rolled his eyes, looked down at the overflowing plate, then grinned at him. “The case of the ‘League of Redheads’? He’s already named it though I’m not sure it will make it onto the blog. He solved it in less than two minutes; they wrote us a check that will see us through for at least three months, then left. He’s still convinced it was a practical joke.”

“You gonna tell him?”

John shrugged his shoulders and was about to pick up his fork when he froze, then muttered, “Looks like he’s figured it out already.”

“Oh, hell.”

“Charley.”

“Sherlock.”

“Surprised that you of all people would have such attractive sisters.”

“They take after Mum. How did you figure it out?”

“Ears. They both wear their hair so they are usually covered, but one of them, Helen, I think, has that nervous habit of playing with her hair. I also saw a brief look of recognition in John’s eyes, he recovered quickly enough, they had never met him, so it didn’t much acting on their parts -”

Charley cleared his throat and started to explain, “Look, it wasn’t a prank, they needed help, and have the means and I knew you were having a bit of a dry spell, ever since -”

“I’ll have coffee and whatever he’s having,” Sherlock said, as he eased into his chair across from John. Charley nodded and left the table. “I should have realised the moment I saw them. He keeps a photo of them by the register, obviously important to him, just off my game of late. Eat, before it gets cold.”

“He showed me a snap he kept in his box once, he’s ten years older, I never met them - I -”

“It’s fine, John, it was an entertaining little puzzle and we didn’t have to leave the flat.”


	19. Smoky

As he opened his eyes that morning, he could distinctly recall those endless days of smoky grey, then forced them from his consciousness as Sherlock rolled in his arms and studied him silently for a long moment before he opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.

“What is it?” 

“Nothing.”

“You were going to say something.”

Sherlock placed his hand on John’s chest, and said quietly, “Before I met you, the world seemed colorless, though I knew it wasn’t - it’s not that you changed the world. I think, it was that I had decided that it didn’t matter.”

“And now?”

“Now.” Sherlock smiled then bit his lip as he looked into John’s dark eyes. “Now, I see everything as if for the first time - it is quite astonishing.”

John blinked at him, then leaned in closer and kissed him, and he knew the world, his world, their world, for the moment at least, was the only place he wanted to be. “Love you.”

Sherlock grinned at him and whispered, “Love you, too,” before pulling him closer and drifting off to sleep again.


	20. Spectral

“John. I'm here, stay with me.”

The warm, sleepy voice drew him safely away from the spectral images that visited on those nights when the past came to visit. He let out a relieved sigh and settled once more into Sherlock's gentle embrace.


	21. Tranquil

People were easy to read, at least people in the general sense of the word, Sherlock mused as he considered the man next to him, still fast asleep. 

But John? He gently traced John's strong jaw with a single finger and bit his lip as John's eyes fluttered open.

For all that he had learned about him over the months, John was still a mystery, not for who and what he was, but what it was about him that calmed the storm of thoughts that usually occupied his mind. Since the day they met, he had come to depend on his companionship, his steadiness and the stillness that lead to tranquil moments like this one. He studied the cryptic smile of his partner in all things, and as he kissed him, he was reminded that some mysteries were meant to remain mysteries.


End file.
